


for one more night

by zialless



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Based on a song, Cheating, Fucking, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Infidelity, Light Angst, M/M, Original Character(s), Rimming, Smut, use of alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 11:53:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6152836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zialless/pseuds/zialless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn's always lonely. Have a girl in his bed with full breasts to press his face in between—he still feels isolation. Have the one man he calls twice a week, he almost feels something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	for one more night

**Author's Note:**

> hiiiii. i finished this in like 1 week in november and slept on posting it. no beta lol as always, ima just give up on saying tht cus i wont ask anyone to beta it. takes way too long lol.
> 
> this is an interpretation of the hills by the weeknd. honestly one amazing song even tho its dark as hell lol. and nicki's SNL remix probably made me love it even more. i have lots of weeknd related works here... lol.
> 
> disclaimer: i literally dont see any of them like this irl. also, its not real lol  
> thanks for reading :) catch me on gonaddydotcom.tumblr.com
> 
> appreciate all the kudos and comments

**5:00am  
** "Come... I miss you." In a slow and thick tone, he says. His voice is low and rough; it means he's been pouring enough liquor and smoking enough to consider calling this somebody either a regret or a blessing. His eyes are heavy and he could feel the bass of his pounding heart. Everything is suddenly beautiful after tasting the sweet temptations of fame's guilty pleasures.

"What time is it?" The voice asks. He hasn't heard the roguish sound of his voice in weeks. All he wants to do is stay on the phone with him, drain his battery as the night deepens into the shallows of the morning sky—watch the city change before him from his windows.

"It's five in the morning." His fingers do nothing but caress, heavy eyelids drooping over his eyes. He can't sleep—not yet.

"So... You want me to come over?" 

"Yeah." Zayn blinks slowly, sinking deeper into his silk sheets. "Just a while. This city is eating me alive and I'm all alone."

"Always is. I'll be there."

Zayn cuts the call after short goodbyes, arm reaching to put his phone away on his table stand. 

And he turns back, combing back the thick silk of her raven black hair away from her soft, innocent visage, relishing how the silk covers mould every detail of her body—from the curves of her breasts, the nipples that are visibly perky, to the curve of her exaggerating hips as she lies on her side. 

He tilts her chin up with his thumb, licking into her mouth right when he leans down on her—the taste of fame's drug still hanging on her lips before he's calling her a taxi to take her home.

And he truly knows how fucked up he is.

**5:28am  
** Everything is careful when they meet. Privacy doesn't exist up on the hills of Hollywood—not even in the base of his home, he's got the shades down on certain nights. Since his life has been nothing but quiet, it's up for him to see the skyscrapers of downtown L.A.

Everything about their business is kept hushed. Those kinds of intentions makes Zayn content in the least bit. Sometimes, Zayn would come over their house instead. Something about having the house emptied for him makes him almost feel something outside his numbing walls. Something about keeping it a secret from one's love is absolutely thrilling.

**5:33am  
** Waiting and having his last girl out, he's finally over. His eyes are the lightest kind of blue but everything he saw behind them was dark—every time he looked at Zayn, they always were. The neutral expression on his face that made it look like he despises him makes it even harder to walk towards him. His blond hair swept to the side, dishevelled with a strand hanging down was the hottest thing he's seen. The drugs were working—Niall's hair is strengthening his attraction for him tonight.

Zayn's always lonely. Have a girl in his bed with full breasts to press his face in between—he still feels isolation. Have the one man he calls twice a week, he almost feels _something_.

**5:35am  
** Niall doesn't ask questions. He just does. In a full embrace, he lets the silence of his home be the answer to the silence of his question.

The bed is unmade, the silk sheets are wrinkled, the blanket is kicked to the end of the bed—and the most important thing, that's all that it is. His fingers were raw from finger fucking the girl that was in his bed who he didn't bother learning the name of. Protected, he came in her—she came twice, off the edge of the bed, the other time riding Zayn and he came another time. And thankfully, she never pushed for more than her cum to dribble between her thighs. Even then, details of a very unmade bed with wet stains of juices between their legs would break anybody silently.

**5:38am  
** Zayn washes his face, brushes his teeth, and cleans his hands thoroughly with two pumps of soap. He lathers until his hand is covered thick in bubbles and he rinses it all off. His fingers still feel tainted. 

He wonders if it's all this is ever going to be enough for him—the sex, the drugs, the up and coming fame that seems to be rising faster than anything else important in his life. He knows how wrong all of this is, and silence speaks for Niall. He's aware of Niall's hatred for this kind of life between them. It's all so secretive, something they both need—not want. What they want is different, yet it leads to the same thing at the end.

The only light Zayn leaves on is the one behind the headboard of the bed. The dim yellow light puts him to sleep, and as he's coming down from his high—it'll be perfect.

**5:42am  
** Zayn likes undressing Niall. From his straight cut jeans to the leather jacket and white t-shirt, he takes it all off, slowly. They don't kiss between this. Zayn needs this moment to be pure—to make it a contrast of all things wrong in the nature of his own life. 

What he likes is not having to say anything for Niall to know what happens next. On the middle of the bed, Zayn's practically a magnet to Niall with his body sprawled for him—laid out for the taking. Niall crawls right between his legs; right away, their mouths open, their tongues meet first before their lips—a sign that the night is going to end faster than planned.

Zayn's legs wrap around Niall's hips, his hands snake into his hair. They kiss fast and very messy. Niall's already losing his breath but he continues to suck and lick Zayn's lips until their wet all over, swell, and red. At the same time, their hips clash at the rolling of Niall's hips. 

"Niall, baby," Zayn exhales very loud; his short breath blows over Niall's lips. Their mouths open wider at the next push until it's tongue on tongue and no breathing.

**5:47am  
** If everything were different, if Niall understood that he's really trying to change, this won't be a thing of regularity. Every 5 AM phone call, he's come to—he's got a boyfriend he leaves for him, and he'd be back before 8 in the morning, leaving Zayn to rot in his Hollywood mansion set high up on the hills. There's no need for the many shots of tequila to distort the images of reality for Niall—to be with Zayn in secrets is its own corruption. Zayn just can't help but think that Niall will save him from his own vices and shadows. Everyone else just wants him to fall when he's taking all of their advices—don't waste a moment of your life.

He's the only one he ever needs in his life to make all the voices and troubles go away. The problem is, he makes some of them too. And it could never be.

"Go down on me—and I'll be the one to take good care of you tonight." Niall's voice is thick with lethargy, a moan escapes his from his throat as he pulled Niall harder against his mouth by the snaking hands in his hair. His eyes are no better to see because Zayn falls for them all the time, and he truly believes him.

Niall falls back completely onto the bed until his head hangs off the edge of the mattress; Zayn can't see anything but the heaviness of his breath through the muscles of his throat.

Zayn sucks him off with his face pushed between his legs more than every so often. He wants nothing more than this beauty's body to squirm in his touch, call his name to make all of his pain go away, give him more pain than just his vigorous bobbing head slurping and licking him trembling. 

"Don't stop, Zayn." Niall groans are so hoarse, it's as if Zayn's gone and fucked his mouth with his dick. 

Oh no, that _was_ Niall—thrusting his dick into Zayn's thirsting mouth like the good fucked up shit he is. Zayn can't forget this is nothing but wonderful sex at 5 in the morning. He licked and swallowed him down, to the last drop that made him want more. His dick filled his mouth in every good kind of way; got his cheeks to hollow each time he pulled up with his foreskin dragging up his mouth too. He had wanted nothing as bad as this opportunity after so many days and weeks of not seeing him because he likes the way Niall's dick fits right around his mouth; it was obscene. The slurping noises, the moaning and whispering Zayn does that makes Niall's dick twitch in his mouth, the taste of his cum filling his mouth. At times, his spit would ribbon around Niall's dick from his tongue, and he'd lick it all up—especially the tip. It makes Niall crazy.

"I'm going to come, Zayn." Niall's hands slip down to Zayn's hands holding down his hips, red marks left on his sensitive skin. He couldn't grip the bed. His fingers press the back of his thighs, squeezing his own flesh to stop the burn and trembling rushing through his legs.

_"Zayn, Zayn, Zayn,"_ he pants breathlessly. Right at the edge of his peak, he pulls his mouth away from his spit-shining cock. It was hard; easy to deliver such a rush to an uncut cock.

As Niall catches his breath and blinks his eyes until he can't see the flashes anymore, Zayn decorates his belly with kisses, wet and sweet as they always can be. He mouths at Niall's hip until there's a soft bruise in the inner corners of his thighs leading to his groin. His boyfriend can enjoy it.

**5:59am  
** "Going to take care of me like you said?" Zayn licks his lips of the unsweetened taste of his dick. Still, it was delicious to him.

"I always take care of you." Niall sits back up with the help of Zayn pulling him up by his hand, sitting face to face.

If that isn't the only honest thing he's heard. Zayn almost cracks a smile. Almost.

"And you take care of me too, babe." Niall's hand is on his face—only to pull him in for a sloppy kiss that leads them back to the noisy lips and snaking tongue over each other. With his weight on Zayn, they end up falling back on the bed—mouth attached, not seeming to get enough of each other.

Zayn wishes that one was true. 

**6:04am  
** Niall's got the deepest hum Zayn's ever heard when he pushed his knuckles right to the flesh of his ass cheeks, fingers buried deep inside of Zayn's hole with the help of lubrication. They curl back and his body twitches to the touch. It's only a simple one; Niall is barely touching the little bud that makes his body feel like its' on cloud nine.

Niall knows him so well; from the tip of his fingertips reaching inside of him, he knows how to touch him there, how deep he should go. And his understanding of Zayn goes as far as the ends of the earth. They're both broken; both liars, both people who want to feel something that close enough to make I love you roll off their tongues. He always feels like he's on top of the world with him. That's something he wants to tell him but will never. Holding him close, letting his hands follow the curve from his back to his ass, wrap him up in his aura.

Niall makes him feel more than two, stretching him open. It makes him feel good that three would be needed to open him apart, and it brings this type of aggression on Niall that he would need more than just three fingers thrusting in his muscles.

"Oh, keep goin' babe." Zayn blows out a heavy breath. The more his fingers curl back inside of him, the better he listens to Niall, to come quicker and all over.

No one's ever made him stutter or his whole body tighten like Niall who's eyebrows are knitted with motivation, his tongue poking out from the corner of his lips, teeth digging down on his lip. Zayn just wants to taste him again.

That's until Niall got to taste him; got him sitting on his knees, legs straddled on the bed, back perfectly arched, mouth pressed right into his asshole. Niall never slapped him before but he must've been so angry with him to pinch Zayn's ass while he's bent for him. It was the grip on the back of his ass and the aggressive pushes forward and movements of Niall's tongue and lips that translated anger back to him really well. There were sweet flavours that had Niall's mouth licking so damn much, poking at Zayn's weakness so many times, even had his mouth suck his little tight and throbbing hole.

"O-oh god," Zayn twists his body so he can see Niall. He grips him by his hair, pushing him harder against his asshole—to lick and eat him until he can see heaven. And he is, because he's bending down lower on his bed, eager for more. Niall gets it, shoving an immediate three fingers for him to lose his mind to. He does.

**6:05am  
** Crawling back on him, Zayn doesn't wait to pull him closer by his hair with his hand tucked between his legs, forearm pressed between the cleft of Niall's ass so he could push him up against him.

"My Zayn." Niall mutters in a low droning voice that rumbles in his chest. He says it with their foreheads touching, eyes looking down between them.

"Hm," Zayn groans quietly, his entire palm holds Niall's nape, fingers nestled into the dark roots of his hair. Right now, Zayn's got one thing on his mind. The drugs make him want so much in so little time and he's out of his mind. "G'na fuck me soon?" Hoarse, quiet with his throat abused, he asks Niall.

"Is that all you care about?" The question comes with a smirk, and the genuine curiosity Niall might have been asking for a long time.

"No. Of course not." Zayn tilts his head when he pushed Niall's head past his. He has his mouth on a spot on Niall's neck, kissing him around the same spot, sucking him at the curve of his neck meeting his shoulder with his face buried in Zayn's shoulder.

Maybe he does. Maybe he could even care less about Niall being here early in the morning, answering his call and coming no later than half an hour. He's just an important contact on his phone—meaningless just like the rest of them. He doesn't even know his favourite colour, how he takes his coffee, or if he even likes coffee at all. That's his boyfriend's job—he's got the title anyway.

This doesn't mean Zayn's going to lie and tell him, "I care about you." when he doesn't.

But he _does_ tell him because it's a faint touch on his skin that makes him think this is real—and that he's almost there. And he'll kiss Niall for what seems to always be like their first time. He won't forget—he's the one he calls last to end his perfectly fucked up late night of being high.

**6:07am  
** Zayn starts to see heaven behind his eyes all over again. He moans under his breath, letting his head hang low over his shoulders, watching the veins of his arms rooting down to his hands. His fingers trying to claw down to his silk sheets for a grip. 

He loves the thrusting force behind him, entering and leaving his body continuously rocking him forward. He keeps his legs stable on the bed, making sure his knees are positioned right and his feet aren't on its toes. Right now, Niall's positioned securely behind Zayn, holding his ankles, thighs seemingly touching and bumping, and a very forceful hand in his hair. 

It hurts, but it's good kind of pain Zayn can bear and ask Niall for more. If he had a mirror, he'd be able to see Niall's face. He gets aggressive, and it shows in the crease of his brows and his panting. 

"N-niall," Zayn exhales loudly. His arm reaches back until his hand is pushing the small of Niall's back, forcing him farther inside. Niall lets go of his hair and holds the curve of his neck. "You make me feel so good."

"Mhm," Niall grunts softly, his dick being squeezed by Zayn's aching muscles. They don't move but their chests that heave when they catch their breath. From the small of Niall's back, he sits up on his knees and reaches for Niall's nape, their body fitting like puzzle pieces.

"Fuck—yeah, just a bit." Niall whispers by his ear, slipping his arm around Zayn's neck. Zayn's the one prodding his hips back before Niall could even begin to tease him with short strokes that would eventually become long and hard, and lead Zayn back down on his bed. 

"How come you're so fucking tight?" Niall presses his face into Zayn's hair, sliding his hands over Zayn's hip until he's found a grip around his untouched dick. He tugs and wraps his fingers around the head, feeling his skin push down as he gently tugs his grip down.

"'Cause," Zayn must have not been thinking properly to have answered Niall, "I know it's how you like me to be."

He hears him laugh below his breath, lips casually pressed on his neck. "I must not be doing this right." He starts to slowly pull out.

"You are. Perfectly, even." Ultimately, Zayn bends back down until he's on his hands and knees with Niall's cock rubbing over his hole.

"Compliment me all you want, babe." Niall pushes his dick in again. Zayn tries to open himself with a hand to make it easier. "But I'm not staying."

Zayn tells himself it's okay, _you don't want him to stay anyway_. He just laughs under his breath, enjoying the moment his dick is fucking him raw. Zayn starts to moan once Niall's got a grip around his hips, pushing him back the same time he pounds his dick in. Now, this is when Zayn can't hold it—starts to blubber and reach his hand back to his ass, begging for everything to be in. He bites his lip when its all there, loses his mind to Niall's hand squeezing his ass. Niall would make noises just for him, say his name because he knows Zayn feels some sort of pride in himself when things get suddenly faster because of him.

**6:23am  
** With the pale markings of Niall's hands digging down his hips, the grunting and grinding, Zayn gasps for Niall to stop, and so they do. 

Zayn wants to finish this differently. Niall should absolutely know by now he won't ever come on his hands and knees. There's no good thing that comes out of it, especially when it's Niall he wants.

**6:30am  
** Niall says his name this time. On and on, as Zayn rotates his hips on him, Niall would grab him for his mouth and lick him inside until he needs to start moaning again. He doesn't; he watches Zayn instead. He likes it better this way and Zayn likes him watching too.

**6:41am  
** From the painful grip in his hair from Niall's fist and the arm around his torso, Zayn figures he's about to come. Likewise, he's reaching his edge, and selfishly bouncing his hips on Niall just to come because he's nearly there—moaning on Niall, holding the back of Niall's knee so he could sit on his dick easier, move with a better angle for the both of them.

"Come first," Zayn tells him, ducking his face into Niall's neck, weakly moving his hips back and forth, his muscles stroking Niall's cock halfway. It's always been him; always Zayn who needs to be first, first to be satisfied, first to whimper out his name in the morning. It doesn't have to be that way today.

Niall doesn't ask, he just bucks his hips, thrusting in Zayn. He moans deep from his chest and feels that shiver from his torso down spilling inside of Zayn, tightening his embrace around the body shaking on top of him. His toes curl, his thighs hurt, and his arms are resting above his head as he enjoys his closest encounter with heaven because after tonight, hell is all he'll know.

"Oh, _that's_ it." Zayn tells himself, rubbing his dick on Niall, coming slowly between their hips. Niall puts a hand on the small of his back, rubbing circles until he gets the idea of slipping his hand over his bum.

They look at one another silently. Nothing but blinking eyes that gaze into each other and loud breathing. They don't usually talk because there isn't anything to talk about between them. Zayn doesn't ask him about his day, Niall could simply not care about Zayn's when it's plastered in the media for everyone to see. He doesn't keep up with the news; all these lies and rumours when he's not bothered to look for neither the lies or the truth. He just knows Zayn as the guy who lives up on the hills and calls him when he needs him. He stays until seven, no more than past eight. And it seems like he's known Zayn his whole life just by the look in his eyes and the way he's there for him too—even when Zayn is the one he calls to save him at night.

**6:47am  
** They don't kiss at the end. It's never something they think about. Once they're done, Niall's always first to leave the bed and head for the showers. And Zayn—he doesn't know what he's doing for him to head to the kitchen. He usually never does. He'd be in bed, facing his window where he watches L.A. wake up. He takes a sheet of paper towel, wetting it just enough to clean himself without feeling the roughness of the paper. Still, doesn't know what he's doing but he's here, and he can see himself from the reflection of surfaces that his skin has got bruises left and right. Niall's doing. And he likes them.

**6:48am  
** Zayn brews coffee. He feels like he's got some promise to keep for him to be able to drink coffee this early. But there's nothing in his schedule as far as he can remember. By the sink, he wets his face and the back of his neck. There's the second bathroom downstairs, though he's decided not to go just yet and wait for the one Niall's in to use.

His showers are usually ten minutes and he comes out with the sweet and intoxicating aroma of apricot, and he smells himself off of him. Niall doesn't put his clothes on just yet, just his white briefs when he enters the open space. He pauses with both his feet together on the floor, looking at the mug Zayn set out for him as an invitation to have coffee this first time. Niall moves like Zayn's not there when he makes his own coffee. He doesn't fill his mug all the way—just half. There's cream in his fridge but Niall goes with milk and a teaspoon of sugar. 

**7:02am  
** He finishes it in three minutes without either of them talking. This is the part where Zayn tells himself he's stupid, and it'll be true because he tells himself he doesn't have feelings for anything or anyone. And when he sees Niall getting ready to leave for what seems to be the millionth time, he actually feels something. He's torn, and it's better than nothing at all.

He's walking away, and he shouldn't. Zayn gets off his seat, grabbing his shoulder arm. "I love you, babe."

Niall doesn't believe it. He shouldn't have to. He has his reasons to laugh at Zayn in the face and just walk out on him and never come back.

He turns to look at him, a soft knit in his eyebrows. "I'm getting married." 

Zayn must've taken a step back for Niall to seem a mile away. His mind shook him senselessly, and he doesn't know if any of this is real. But the pain is, and so are his feelings.

"Is that how you feel about me then?" Zayn asks; he can barely find himself to look at Niall. He could walk out on him right now and Zayn will never see them again. So he looks at him. For once, he hasn't let himself be so vulnerable.

Niall shakes his head, letting out a deep breath. "This is the last time we're—"

"Give me a straight answer, Niall." Zayn's voice raises above the whispers, and Niall can barely look at him straight without his throat clenching, his lips quavering in confusion. _"Is that how you feel about me?"_

Hesitantly but inevitably to both their surmise, Niall shakes his head, curling his lips in. He doesn't step back or rip away from Zayn—he kisses him deeply. Niall's got his arms around Zayn's torso, presses tightly just like his kisses. He's the one nipping and sucking Zayn's lips, tilting his head when Zayn does, sucking a deep breath when they've been kissing for too long. 

He tastes like morning and it's not because of the coffee. He hasn't had a day to look forward to waking up until now.

"I'm tired." Niall whispers and his lips brush over Zayn's. He starts to feel Niall's hand slipping on the base of his back, pulling him towards his room. 

**7:06am  
** The bed is still unmade but they're the reason why. They're still kissing; touching each other under the covers. From the thin and soft layer of silk over them, Niall's fingers pressing down on Zayn's back, the cover easily flowing and shaping the movement of their bodies. Zayn's looking at his world, and he's staring back with a smile he's never seen before. Zayn tries to smile too as Niall caresses his face.

This is something he wants to be used to—something he will never have again with anyone else when this is as good as it can get for him, and no better.

Why didn't he see all of this when it wasn't too late.

**Author's Note:**

> also........ if i have giant gaps in my paragraphs... its not my fault lol. every time i post my stuff here, they end up being spaced out and i gotta go through each paragraph backspacing till the end so i miss anything and it makes uncomfortable (bc it does for me lol) im sorry.
> 
> (im also still working on the chaptered fic dw)
> 
> thanks for reading :)


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